Once Bitten, Twice Shy
by River's Dream
Summary: Harry's stressed and Severus wants to rectify a past failure. Contains self-injury.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – All canon characters, places, etc. . . are the property of J.K. Rowling not me I'm merely a poor student playing with them.

The strain of tired muscles twinged throughout his shoulders as the sting from a solitary bead of sweat fell into the slowly seeping wounds on the back of his hand. Gritting his teeth slightly at the unexpected sting, Harry steadfastly continued to write the assigned lines, unwilling to give his guard even the tiniest satisfaction that she was sure to find at even this smallest inconvenience for him.

If Harry was honest with himself, he thought sarcastically, the sweat still stung less than the hideous glare of pink his eyes had endured over the first eight weeks of the fall term. He knew he attracted trouble, but, Harry had the strangest feeling, at this rate, he would outpace the Marauders detention record and have far less fun than they must have had earning theirs.

The Marauders.

Harry felt a pang go through him at the thought of them. Sometimes, late at night, he allowed himself the painful pleasure of wondering what life would have been like if he had been able to have a real father figure in his life. Sirius was great to write but the whole escaped fugitive debacle kept him at a distance. Lupin was okay too but the man always stayed so far away, the closest he had ever been was when he was a professor and even then, he mostly kept to nostalgic looks in his direction. Harry wasn't even sure of the werewolf's current location.

Much as he wanted too he couldn't even go to his other professors for help with the growing battle that had emerged between himself and the newest attempt at a "defence professor".

Dumbledore hadn't come near him since the trial, a change that stabbed at his heart. After all, it wasn't like he had asked the dementors to attack Dudley and himself. He admittedly had wished his cousin ill at times but no one deserved to be kissed. Surely, Dumbledore understood that, right? Yet, Harry couldn't think of any other reason why the previously grandfatherly old man treated him like a bloody boggart.

Perhaps, Harry mused, if he outlasted Umbridge's medieval detentions, Dumbledore might consider him worth trusting again. Seriously, what had he done that he was so undeserving of some positive adult influence. Internally, he sighed at the unfairness of it all.

Of course, there was always his head of house. Though Professor McGonagall outwardly took no favourites, Harry knew that she had always looked on him fondly though at a distance. . .

Harry stopped that line of thought suddenly. It wouldn't work either. Umbridge had clearly shown her desire to make the Gryffindor professor's life as miserable as possible and, if his own experience was any indication, which might just be the only thing that Delores Umbridge was supremely qualified to do.

"Ahem," a sharp cough interrupted Harry's musing.

Harry schooled his features and looked up towards the woman's desk blandly. "Yes, Professor?" he replied, not wishing to add any more detentions to his already impressive tally due to (rightly) perceived disrespect.

"It appears it is already fifteen minutes until your curfew Mr. Potter. I believe we shall continue tomorrow evening. Please be here promptly at 7:00 or I shall have to add another night to our time together." Umbridge oozed sweetly, making Harry's stomach lurch uncomfortably.

Seeing his escape, Harry quickly and quietly swept his belongs into his satchel and headed towards the door.

"Ahem" Umbridge's cough echoed through the office once again.

Harry stopped in the doorway, allowing his face to temporarily cringe as it was hidden from the newest bane of his existence. Turning back towards the woman, he answered numbly "Yes Professor?"

"What do we say before leaving Mr. Potter?" Umbridge asked, a smile seeping into her tone at what had become an almost nightly ritual.

Swallowing imperceptibly, Harry was barely able to choke out the nightly ritual "Thank you for helping me Professor Umbridge."

Eyes narrowing in a predatory manner as she observed the young man before her, Umbridge nodded condescendingly "Of course Mr. Potter, It's my job as your professor to help shape you into a proper wizard for our society."

Nodding his head sharply, Harry walked out the door, turned out of Umbridge's line of vision, and took off towards the safety of Gryffindor tower.

Glancing briefly at his hand as he took off down the familiar halls, Harry let out a sigh as the thoughts he had been attempting to keep at bay began racing through his head.

The cuts on his hand were getting deeper as time went on and healing slower with each passing detention. It appeared as though the quill's effects were cumulative. Quickly doing the math regarding how many detentions he had left Harry groaned audibly.

Maybe, he should do that next essay on glamours? Hermione had mentioned a few good books on the subject earlier in the term, not that she knew he had been paying attention.

Harry frowned at the thought of his friend. He felt bad that he couldn't bring himself to get excited about her ramblings. He actually did pay attention and the bushy haired witch had taught him loads over the years. He just couldn't figure out how to let Hermione past the years of walls he had built over a lifetime with the Dursley's. As much as he trusted her, he had learned to trust his instincts more and his instincts still screamed it was safer to look uninterested.

That said, a little bit of intentional interest and he was sure that Hermione would help him out without asking too many questions about his sudden outward interest in academics. A small tremor of guilt passed through him at the thought before it, along with the rest of his person stopped without warning.

"Out for a late night stroll, Mister Potter?" drawled the large, black shadow that had materialized before him.

Harry felt his insides plummet.

Just his rotten luck, of all the people he could of encountered, he would run into Snape on his way back to the tower. "I just finished detention with Professor Umbridge and was heading back to the dormitory, sir" Harry ground out, frustration finally slipping out after the evening's events. "I'm sure the professor would be glad to confirm my story."

Snape observed the young man before him and felt the usual wave of disdain sweep over the slight nostalgia that always threatened to emerge when those eyes fell upon him. The child was hiding something, his posture screamed secrets. What sort of mischief was the young miscreant actually up too?

Harry froze under the potion masters scrutiny and felt himself go numb as he dropped his gaze to the floor. Numb was safe.

Severus noticed the change before him as warning bells sounded in the back of his mind. The behaviour Potter was displaying looked eerily familiar but he couldn't place the Gryffindor's actions within the familiar tendrils of thought.

Watching the professor's internal struggle, Harry began to fidget slightly as he felt the still seeping wound on his hand begin to give into the rules of gravity.

Seeing his old nemesis standing before him in his offspring, Snape tensed at the boy's seeming disrespect and glared "Get out of here Potter. Don't let me catch you in the halls after hours again."

Not wanting to argue the ten minutes left before curfew, Harry hoisted his bag on his shoulders and swiftly continued his journey back to the dormitory.

Taking a deep breath to steady the headache which always seemed to accompany interacting with Potter, Snape turned and continued his rounds through the school looking for other troublemakers attempting to skirt curfew. As he rounded the corner, a stray though flittered back to the front of his memory – had Potter's hand been bleeding?

Walking swiftly, Snape returned to the hallway outside of the defense classroom where he had left the boy moments earlier only to be met by the sole echoes of his own footsteps.

A.N. So, this is my first foray into HP Fanfic. As such, I don't have a beta and am will be getting my feet wet in the HP world. I also am working on a SGA Fanfic, going to school, dealing with health issues, and getting married so updates are sporadic, however, I don't abandon stories (the unknown between chapters is also why I don't have a beta). So read, enjoy, and give some constructive feedback if you can. Oh, and if anyone has a better title idea let me know :D


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer – See chapter 1

Harry exhaled in relief as he felt the portrait close behind him and the warm, familiar glow of the Gryffindor common room surrounded him in an easy greeting.

After his unfortunate meeting with Snape, it would seem that even the castle had taken pity on his luck with each of the staircases cooperating to form the quickest possible route back to his dormitory.

Crossing through the common room, Harry grabbed a seat by the fire and began taking out his books to begin a long night of homework. He had just taken out his transfiguration, herbology, and potions texts when a voice cut sharply across the silence.

"Harry, there you are!"

There, standing at the bottom of the girls' staircase stood Hermione Granger, wearing her prefect badge and a relived expression donning her face.

"I was beginning to worry about you. Do you realize how close to curfew it is? What about your homework?" The bushy haired girl began to ramble excitedly.

Feeling suddenly weary, Harry slowly raised his hand to quiet the enthusiastic girl, subconsciously tucking his wounded limb out of sight from his characteristically observant friend. "I'm sorry Hermione; I came as soon as the professors let me. Believe me, I would far rather have spent the night working on these essays," he gestured to the books and parchment now rolling to the floor before him "then spending even more time with our esteemed professors," he finished with a weary sarcasm that still held evidence of a hardened edge.

Hermione wilted midsentence at Harry's response. "Oh Harry, I'm terribly sorry. I cannot believe I forgot about your detention tonight. What do you mean by professors though? I thought only Professor Umbridge was supervising." She asked moving to close the distance between herself and her friend.

"Snape was on patrol" Harry replied shortly, focusing instead on recapturing his errant scrolls and beginning to lay them out according to which class he couldn't afford to skip an assignment in the most.

"That's right," Hermione answered in a soft, reflecting tone. "We're given a list of the professors patrol schedules as prefects you know, Snape seems to claim an abnormally large portion of shifts, I've often wondered if he requests them purposefully."

"Right, Hermione" Harry mumbled, open his transfiguration textbook and wearily beginning to write; now blatantly ignoring the girl before him.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in sudden shock.

"Yes, Hermione?" Harry looked up.

"Do you mean to tell me you still have three essays to write before classes tomorrow?"

"Actually, "Harry replied dead panned "I hadn't intended to tell you at all."

Hermione pursed her lips "I suppose this means that you haven't gotten around to working on the DA's first lesson plan either?"

Now, Harry groaned in earnest.

The week before, a group of students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had met in Hogsmeade with the goal of combating Umbridge's dismal lack of teaching ability. Somehow, through events Harry still hadn't fully figured out, despite the fact he knew he had been present for the entire event, he had been declared the leader of a defense class of all things. This meant he was now required to create lesson plans and instruct a group of overly eager students who were desperate to pass their OWLS or, perhaps, just survive the school year.

"Oh Harry," Hermione clucked sympathetically. "I was afraid of this." She said resolutely, turning to her book bag, and pulling out some parchment. "If you aren't opposed to the idea, I could, perhaps, jot down a few introductory ideas; sketch out some potential lesson plans from some of the deficits I've noticed within our year mates? I mean, unless that's overstepping, again." Hermione stuttered suddenly nervous.

Despite his tiredness, Harry couldn't help but grin a little at Hermione's nervousness, even though he wished she would just trust him, it was oddly pleasant to think there was someone worried enough about his thoughts to be nervous.

"Thanks Hermione, to be honest, I feel lost when it comes to the whole "where to start" part of teaching. You're the greatest." He finished earnestly.

Hermione visibly lit up under Harry's praise. Quickly, she joined Harry by the fire in the other empty armchair and the two began working in companionable silence.

Over the next two hours, Harry quietly finished off the shorter two assignments with Hermione occasionally interjecting some helpful hint or correction, much to Harry's relief but, as Harry pulled out his final assignment he could see his friend beginning to falter with the late hour.

"Hermione?" Harry called concernedly as the bushy haired young woman nodded over her parchment, dangerously close to having her face connect with her inkwell.

"Mmm, 'arry?" she responded half asleep and stifling a yawn.

"You've done enough for tonight," he said, stifling a yawn himself. "Go to sleep. You've given the DA a good start and probably ensured me a passing grade on two of three assignments." He said with a tired grin.

She stared back at him blearily. "If you sure." She said biting off yet another telling yawn.

Harry smiled. "Of course, I'm sure Hermione. I couldn't have done this without you but you need to take care of yourself too. Can't have all of us falling apart."

Swaying, the young witch gathered her things and stumbled up towards the girls' dormitory. Harry's smile faded as she disappeared from view, his features sagging in a mixture of self-loathing and exhaustion.

"After all, it's not your fault that I can't keep out of detention, or do my homework properly, or run a self-defense club since the ministry can't be bothered to do their job. It's not your fault I'm a lousy friend." He muttered, jabbing forcefully at his parchment in an attempt to stay awake and vent some of his now always-present frustration at the circumstances that currently held him in their thrall.

In his exhaustion, as he reached over to get another book for his essay, Harry did not notice his hand on a collision course for the table.

"Ouch" Harry hissed as his newly re-injured hand recoiled from the solid wood it had connected with bringing both pain and . . . clarity?

Looking down at the scrawled "I must not tell lies" which was now sluggishly bleeding once again, Harry was surprised to notice that not only did he feel more clear headed but marginally better as a small surge of adrenalin and surprise raced through his system at the unexpected injury. In fact, it was the best he'd felt all day. Harry stared at the blood slowly meandering down his hand in wonder, thoughts racing through his head before being replaced by inexplicable fear. Gathering up his belonging in a panic, Harry rushed off towards his dormitory. Professor Sprout's essay would just have to be late.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer – See chapter 1

Harry woke up with a start the next morning, his hair at war with his nerves as to which was more frazzled. Grabbing his wand and muttering under his breath he didn't know whether to be annoyed or relieved that it were still three hours until his first of the day Perhaps Professor Sprout's essay could be finished after all, Harry mused.

Stumbling out of bed, Harry quickly proceeded to shower and dress, rolling his eyes despite himself as his hair obstinately refused to be tamed yet again. Sirius had commented over the summer that his dad's hair had been the same way, only learning to behave once Lily entered the picture. That meant there was still hope for him, right?

Grabbing his book bag, still loaded with last night's papers and Hermione's sketches for the D.A,. Harry made his way down to the common room in the hopes of working on some top twelve uses of such and such herb.

Such and such herb.

For the love of . . .

No wonder he was always struggling to finish his homework. Harry thought to himself grudgingly.

_Bloody so called saviour of the world and I'm struggling to get A's in my OWLS. Hope the wizarding world doesn't have to many long term plans if I'm their greatest hope_, harry thought snarkily, dropping himself back into the seat with a thud.

Pulling out his parchment, quill, and some books that Neville had quietly slipped him after class the day before, Harry settled into work. However, staying focused was proving to be an unexpected challenge. Although the assignment was a mere two feet, a nice break from the usual marathon assignments which seemed to dominate fifth year, Harry felt his thoughts continually drifting to the night before.

Life had thrown him plenty of curves before. He spent enough time in Madame Pomfrey's care that someone had jokingly made up a name plate which had been attached to his bed via sticking charm the last time he had been force to spend the night after a rougher than normal quidditch match. Even at the Dursley's, Harry shuddered changing his train of thought, he was no stranger to pain. Last night had been different though. The pain hadn't been just pain, it had morphed into clarity, focus, it was almost a . . . a rush.

For those briefs seconds nothing had mattered. Didn't matter that Umbridge was on her own personal warlock hunt against him for Merlin knows whatever reason. Didn't matter that he couldn't see Remus or Siri. Didn't matter that he was struggling with his school work when, despite the teachers claims, or at least one in particular he knew he could do better. It didn't even matter that so many people were relying on him to be their saviour when he couldn't even take care of himself.

For a few seconds everything had just been. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had felt as calm as he had when the pain raced through him. For months, all there had been was stress and tension, the constant reminder of how often he failed and how many were watching.

Unconsciously, Harry pulled back his robes and began lightly tracing his hand over the now scabbed over wound.

"Hiya Harry," a friendly voice called out, interrupting Harry's rapidly trailing thoughts.

Harry looked up to see Neville easily crossing the common room towards his seat. Neville had started to blossom over the last year since joining the friendship the year before during the Tri-Wizard tournament. When Ron had turned git on them, Harry thought sourly. Ron's betrayal and animosity still hurt, even after all these months.

"Hi Neville." Harry responded forcing himself to smile, shaking himself from his darker thoughts.

"Working on your essay for Sprout?" Neville queried looking at the half-filled out parchment. "You know, I think chapter three would be particularly useful for you." Neville offered hesitantly, suddenly retreating into the hesitant boy Harry remembered from first year. Some changes took longer than others, confidence seemed to be one of them.

Harry quickly flipped through the text to chapter three. "Hey, this looks really good, thanks Neville." He responded, genuinely enthusiastic at the time and frustration the chapter would save him.

"No problem Harry." Neville replied, regaining an easy smile. "Hey can we chat later?" he asked questioningly.

Harry mentally did the math, he thought he had 10 minutes left free this term. Mustering up his energy he let out what he hoped was a hearty affirmative nod, he liked Neville he really did but being engaged with people was just so tiring these days. Not that the poor boy before him needed to know that.

"But first Nev, I really need to finish this up" harry said with a smile.

"Course mate." Neville responded, understandingly nodding his head. "Look forward to it" he finished as he headed out most likely to catch some breakfast or tend to something in the greenhouses before class if Harry had to guess.

He should be grateful. Right? People wanted to spend time with him here, not like out the Dursley's where he was an outcast. Only someone completely ungrateful would be upset about people wanting to spend time with them, unless, maybe they only wanted what he could do for them, maybe they didn't want just Harry.

Over the summer Harry had gotten used to the sensation of panic, his chest tightening, his head spinning, his heart pounding, but that was the summer. He had things he had to do now, people watching him, he couldn't afford to spend time being some broken shadow of who everyone expected him to be. He couldn't exist as some pathetic coward, looking for conspiracy in every corner. He stabbed his parchment viciously with the quill in his hand.

Harry?" it was a female voice, calling Harry questioningly out of his thoughts this time.

"Harry" Harry looked up to see Hermione exited the stairs to the girls dormitory. "Please don't tell me you've been here working all night?" The girl asked concernedly, or was it something else in her tone Harry wondered?

No, this was Hermione, his friend, who was worried about him, she was one of reasons he was trying to do better. Shaking himself, he looked up at her and willed his nerves steady. "Sorry Hermione" Harry's voice shook against his will. Inwardly Harry cursed himself. This was no good; he had to pull himself together . . .

As though directed by a force of its own, Harry felt his good hand creep once more toward the wounded scrawl, pressing hard enough to draw blood but not attention. Instantly he felt the same calming relief he had felt the night before. Taking a steady breath to harness the release, Harry looked back towards Hermione, his friend he thought assuredly, once again. "Sorry 'mione. I didn't sleep well last night, worrying about the essay and all. Guess I'm still a bit off is all."

Hermione softened visibly. "Oh Harry, I completely understand, I've stayed up quite a bit lately thinking about OWLS myself." She stopped and took assessment of the boy before her. Harry was surprised when she seemed satisfied with how he now looked. Inwardly he mulled over the new development.

"Well, we don't have class for a little while yet, would you like some help finishing your essay?" Hermione asked cheerfully, seemingly past the previous concern.

"If you wouldn't mind looking over it before we go, I'd appreciate that loads Hermione." Harry asked honestly.

"Not a problem, the girls are being rather silly this morning, Neville went off to check some plants before class and Ron's still not talking to anyone." She frowned slightly at the thought, more due to her ongoing surprise that she didn't miss the red head's company. Either way she had plenty of time to spend with her best friend, as no one else was demanding her time.

Internally, Harry felt himself drop, unaware of Hermione's quiet dialogue. _So, I'm a last resort,_ Harry thought darkly. _Guess I shouldn't be surprised by now_, he unconsciously scrapped at the wounds again. Taking another steadying breath, Harry offered the brunette a surprisingly steady grin that did not reach his eyes. Levelly, Harry quirked his head towards the girl in what he hoped was a friendly manner. "Maybe you can get some OWLS revision in while you're waiting, that way the time doesn't go to waste."

"Harry, you're brilliant," the young witch exclaimed happily. She easily settled down in a nearby chair and began to review while Harry set to work on his essay.

Harry was surprised when less than half an hour later he was finished his essay. Hermione, noticing his startled reaction looked up "Harry?" she queried.

"I'm finished" Harry responded, not meeting her eyes. "Would you take a look?"

Quickly Hermione came over and scanned through the work, marking a grammatical error here and there before looking up. "This is much better than your last one Harry, especially the last half. It's very focused." She said plainly, slightly surprised herself at the improvement in her friend's work.

"Thanks Hermione." Harry mused; suddenly he looked up at the clock above the fireplace. "We better run if we don't want to be late for Herbology. I can't afford anymore detentions or lost points." Harry said glumly, stuffing his essay into the book bag he had grabbed off the floor where it had fallen while he worked.

"I don't think Professor Sprout would give you detention," Hermione said uncertainly, stuffing her own notes into the bag now slung over her shoulder. "We probably shouldn't try the professors patience though," she finished, walking towards the door briskly and leaving Harry alone in the common room as he finished grabbing his parchment and books.

"Don't bother waiting for me" Harry sighed under his breath hurrying out the door after her. "Not like I matter anyway."

A.N. please review if you have a minute :D They are greatly appreciated.


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